


certified taste tester

by amber_management



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Baked Goods, Belly Rubs, Gen, Kink Discovery, Kurt Wagner is a Good Friend, Minor Remy LeBeau/Rogue, No Sex, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28602111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amber_management/pseuds/amber_management
Summary: kitty knew that kurt was good at many things, and that one of them was eating. but kurt had no idea just how much he loved being good at it
Relationships: Kitty Pryde & Kurt Wagner
Kudos: 12





	certified taste tester

**Author's Note:**

> once again, vaguely inspired by @squidbiscutis art: https://squidbiscuit.tumblr.com/image/27340852607?fbclid=IwAR3ic9qaq3By23VY9a4Ap4dKQ4A6PmDge6NPSaEuPvswfRj4t76HTTxFuxA
> 
> also, if you want to see the list of food in this fic, i used this article: https://www.delish.com/food/g3699/the-best-dessert-in-24-countries-around-the-world/ i didn't include the super complicated looking ones

Maybe Kurt should have seen this coming, but really, when Kitty had first come up to him she had just looked so damn hopeful, with those big eyes and genuine smile, he just couldn't find it within himself to refuse.

In his defence, she was an exceptional cook. She had found an old cookbook at a second-hand store, and she had been eager to find someone willing to help her taste-test all the new recipes she was near-desperate to get to.

So, on one of their few days of downtime, Kurt found himself down in the large, industrial kitchen, seated behind the wide kitchen counter as he watched her pace back and forth between recipes, humming to herself and returning to the book now and then to double-check an ingredient. 

The first thing he was handed was a stout glass of shaved ice with a mint leaf as garnish and drops of condensation rolling down the sides. " _Granita_ , for an appetizer," Kitty smiled. "And as an early thank you for doing this for me."

"It's not a problem, _mein freund_ ," Kurt replied as he took the spoon offered to him and dragged the granita closer. "You are an exceptional cook. I'm eager to see what you will come up with. What, exactly, have you got in store for me today?"

"Different desserts from around the world," Kitty smiled as she turned away. "Don't worry, I ensured Germany was included."

She spun back around and returned to the cooking. The _granita_ was cool and refreshing, the lemon the right amount of tangy and just sweet enough to not be overpowering. He tried to eat it as slowly as he could, so he could savour it longer.

Before long, she placed a small ramekin of French _c_ _reme brule_ before him, creamy and sweet and toasted just right. It melted in his mouth.

He had barely finished it before she placed a large, swollen slice of apple pie before him, hot and gooey. He took a bite out of it, nodded in approval, and pushed it to the side to await the next dish.

Immediately, her face fell. "Isn't it good? Don't you like it?"

"No no, it's delicious," Kurt said.

"But you didn't eat it," Kitty eyed the slice of pie as if it had personally offended her, considering all the many things she could have possibly done wrong.

It was then that Kurt realized that for her to be satisfied, he would have to eat the whole plate he was handed and not just take a bite out of each dish. He would have to eat everything she gave him for her to be happy. The _c_ _reme brule_ was easy, but the double portion of apple pie would prove to be much harder, and she still had many, many more countries left to go before the book was done. He wasn't sure that he could do it. But looking at her face, with those bright eyes and her frown and the innocent, disappointed way she was looking at the apple pie, he wasn't sure if he had the heart to refuse.

So, without giving it much more thought, Kurt reached across and pulled the pie back in front of him, and wrapped his fingers around the fork. "You're right. I will give it another taste, just in case."

The smile she gave him was so radiant, that he knew he had made the right choice, even if he would probably live to regret it later. 

To her credit, the apple pie was delicious. The pastry was flaky and buttery, and the filling was warm and sweet, the applies the right amount of firm, the spices a background flavour but still present. If this was his only dish for the day, he would take his time to savour it, but he found it hard to enjoy when he knew how much was waiting for him.

She served him Turkish _baklava_ and Perusian _picarones_ in quick succession, and both were sweet and delicious, both so different but both amazingly flavorful that burst in his mouth. Nutty and sweet. They went down easily, those tiny squares of crumbly _baklava_ , and those dense _picarones_ that settled heavily within him, and he thoroughly enjoyed every bite. But even as he was licking the remaining flavour off of his fingers, she had already turned around and continued with the next dish. 

He was immediately served a large plate of jam _s_ _yrniki_ from Russia, the pancakes soft and doughy yet dense, and a thick slice of Spanish _t_ _arta de santiago._ By now, his poor belly was feeling incredibly taut, and even beneath his big hoodie, he could feel the way it pressed against the fabric. He could practically hear it gurgling, over the sounds of Kitty cooking and between the lulls of gentle humming and hissing sauces and clanking pans. He tried, as inconspicuously as he could, to try and rub away the slight twinge of pain beneath the counter, but Kitty was always back too quickly for it to ever do any real good.

Argentian _p_ _astelitos_ were placed down in front of him before he was ready for them, but the folds of puff-pastry were easy to get down, and the sweet quince filling was a nice touch. Half a Banoffee pie was slid across the counter, and he was definitely starting to feel a little hot beneath the collar, a little flushed, and a _lot_ full. He ached in an unfamiliar but not too unwanted way, his swollen gut feeling hot and heavy, taught beneath his hand. When he pressed his fingers into it beneath the counter, he didn't have any give, and the pressure released a burp from the confines of his gut, and he had to hold it back behind his teeth. His breathing was sharp, and his gut seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat.

Before he knew it, he was gobbling down a plate of Brazillian _brigadeiros_ with forced ease, before moving onto a plate of Belgian waffles topped with chocolate shavings and whipped cream and berries. Next was tiny, coconut-coated sponge cakes from Australia with a weird name that he devoured with slight stress, and he felt perspiration across his brow when he ate two cups of Icelandic _skyr_.

Every breath caused pain, and he felt an abnormal weight in his lap. When he finally found the courage to glance down while Kitty's back was turned, he saw that his poor stomach and grown about three times its size and was now resting like luggage on his thighs, swollen and gurgling and hot. He couldn't believe it. He was sometimes known to over-indulge, but never like this- never being so full that his stomach swelled out with the evidence of his gluttony. And never did he think that he actually had it in him. He couldn't say that he was too upset about it when he slid his hands beneath his hoodie and cradled the mass, brushing his fingers over the plush, burning underbelly and the faint trail of soft fur there that stood on edge with anticipation. His tail had curled around the chair to stop him from teleporting to his room while her back was turned and getting a good look at himself in his full-length mirror. The only thing that was really stopping him was the unknown of whether he could actually make it there all not. He had never tried with so much food in him.

Canadian _nanaimo bars._ South African _koeksisters_. Sweedish _prinsesstårta_. He mindlessly ate it all, wiping crumbs and drool off of his chin, until he had swallowed down with increasing difficulty, every last bite. And despite how full his gut was, how sickly he felt and how shallow his breathing was, he didn't regret a moment of it, just for that look on Kitty's face.

"Wow! I'm glad that you liked it! I was worried about a few things there, but you ate it all, so I had nothing to worry about," she beamed at him as she carried a tray over from where it had been sitting on the stove. "Now for your reward! _Schwarzwälder kirschtorte!_ I told you I didn't leave you out."

Kurt looked at the German black forest cake with dread. "Kitty, uh..." his stomach gurgled. He felt faint. He had already eaten more than he ever had, and he wasn't sure he was going to fit in a whole cake. During his feast, he had completely lost track of where the dishes were from and hadn't even thought about the one from Germany she had promised. "That's very kind of you, but I don't know if I can do it. I'm sure it's delicious, but I've already eaten quite a lot, and I do not think-"

"Oh, don't be silly," Kitty laughed as she gabbed a fork from the drawer. "I'm going to share this one with you. Your poor belly is already looking awfully tight, despite how big your hoodie is. It would just be cruel of me to send you away as big as a blimp. But you have to try it and tell me what you think, at least."

Kurt was red from his cheeks to his tail as he joined Kitty in carving up forkfuls of the cake. He didn't think that it was possible for him to be any fuller. The dense, rich cake landed in his gut like a bolder, which was coincidentally how he felt. Heavy and immobile and large like a boulder. While he ate with one hand, the other was used to tenderly rub the pain away from his engorged belly beneath the counter where he could only hope that Kitty was unaware, despite sitting opposite him and knowing full well just how much he had consumed and the toll it was taking on him. In fact, she might have even planned it. 

While he ate, he spared some self-control to hold back the bile that rose in his throat after every bite, his body finally resisting and trying to stop him from hurting himself. But she was right- it was a special cake that she made just for him, and it would be rude not to eat as much as he could handle. To show his appreciation, of course.

Thankfully, Kitty didn't seem to notice or didn't seem to care, his growing predicament beneath the counter. Between mouthfuls of cake, she told him about the recent incidents that some of the other teams have gotten in and how was a pain it was for her to fix it or thanking him for helping her out on such short notice while she waved her fork about.

He was grateful for her yapping because that meant he had to speak very little and could portion one part of his concentration to trying to soothe his aching, gurgling belly.

When the cake was eventually, finally consumed, Kitty stood up with a smile and collected all the dishes. Kurt was impressed- he didn't think she could fit half a cake in her. "Don't worry about a thing here, Kurt. I'll clean up. Thanks again for today, I don't know if I could have done it without your feedback."

"As always, your cooking is incredible," Kurt said with a strained smile as she began piling plates and pans into the sink. "If you don't mind, I'll be taking my leave now."

He didn't wait for a reply as he shut his eyes tightly as he bamfed to his room, landing heavily on his back on the bed and was hit with a wave of nauseous as his belly jostled and swayed with the erratic movement. His tail instinctually rose up to cradle the underbelly and release some of the gravitational pressure, and he hurriedly yanked his hoodie up to get a good look at the damage.

He was massive. Absolutely massive, no doubt about it. His dark blue skin was tinged red as the pressure stretched the skin, and his usually flat, toned chest was gorged. It was so large that he couldn't fit both hands around it and so hot that he thought it was producing its own heat source. It burbled and sloshed beneath his hands as he tentatively shook it. He groaned in both pleasure and pain as a sharp pang shot through him, and he moaned as he rubbed his hands around the mass of a globe that had become his belly. He had never been so full, so heavy. He could feel it at the back of his throat, all that desert one sharp movement away from coming back up. He wasn't sure if he could get up now if he tried. It was hard enough teleporting to his room- standing was going to be an entirely different problem.

His gut wobbled as he rubbed it, so taut and swollen beneath his hand. It hurt to breathe, and he groaned at all the pressure pushing down on him, and also at the strained feeling of being full to his gills, of pushing his limits in a way he had never thought to do before. It was, if he was being shamefully honest, an amazing experience and a blessed feeling, and one that he wasn't soon likely to forget. 

Part of him was euphoric at the experience. The other part of him was worried about the mechanics of standing with this gut in the way. 

Eventually, he fell asleep, his belly resting on the bed beneath him for stability, his tail caressing the heaviest part of his widened mass and his hands wrapped around the apex as much as they could, and he dreamt about cakes and pastries and sweets and Kitty's gleaming, mischievous smile.

When he woke the next morning, he was still incredibly bloated, the food having partially digested but not leaving him without proof of his engorged state, and he stared at his swollen middle in the mirror with curiosity and surprise. He had assumed that the mass would have gone down by now and that all evidence of his stuffing would be unnoticeable, but that was not the case, and for some strange, abnormal reason, he couldn't find it within him to care in the slightest.

Throwing on the same hoodie he had struggled to pull off of himself yesterday, admiring the substantially bloated size of his belly, he left his room and made his way back down the stairs in order to thank Kitty properly for all her hard work yesterday, resting a hand on his round belly as he did so, the contents sloshing as he bounded down the stairs. 

He was more than a little surprised to see Remy reclining in a chair, eyes closed as if in a stupor, pale and gaunt and breathing shallowly to accommodate his expanded gut that now rested over his thighs. Somehow, he was even larger than Kurt was the night before, and the whole thing gurgled angrily in distress as it too struggled to digest the enormous amount of food it had been forced to consume. Kurt cleared his throat, and Remy's eyes fluttered open to look at Kurt on the stairs, looking between Kurts much smaller but still swollen middle, and Remy's own gut that seemed three times its usual size.

They stood there in stunned, embarrassed silence for a moment before Kurt broke it. "Kitty?"

"No, Rogue," Remy said, his voice sounding just as heavy as his he looked. "Said something about a new cookbook she found and wanting to try out the recipes. Told me that she needed a taste tester."

"Funny," Kurt said. "Kitty told me the same thing."

They stared at each other in contemplative silence. Remy nodded at Kurt, and at the fabric stretched around his belly, his hand resting above it and his tail cradling it from bellow, the new pull of gravity still too much for him. "You look good with a little meat on your bones," Remy said with a sly smile. "A paunch does you wonders."

"I could say the same for you. You look thoroughly looked after. Overfed. If only I had known that feeding you toe excess would be the way to shut you up," Kurt said. "I must say, it's a pleasant feeling. I enjoy the way it makes me feel. I think you might too."

"Yeah," Remy said. "Me too."

Nodding, Kurt left Remy there to bask in his food-coma, and he kept a steady motion of constant rubbing on his stomach as his tail cradled it during his journey, and he continued on his path of finding Kitty and maybe asking her to schedule another tasting in the not-so-distant future.


End file.
